


(Brotherly?) Love

by talia_ae



Category: New Girl
Genre: Airports, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talia_ae/pseuds/talia_ae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My problem," Nick sputters, face flushed, "is that some idiot travel agent, for utterly ridiculous reasons, designed a flight that went from Chicago to LA by way of <i>Philadelphia</i>, and we are now--"</p>
<p>"Stuck here, yes, I know."  </p>
<p>Or, Jess and Nick get stuck in an airport.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Brotherly?) Love

"My _problem_ ," Nick sputters, face flushed, "is that some idiot travel agent, for utterly _ridiculous_ reasons, designed a flight that went from Chicago to LA by way of _Philadelphia_ , and we are now--"  
  
"Stuck here, yes, I know, and hey Nick, hey!  People are staring."  Jess pats his arm, glancing around the terminal.  A woman in a hot pink sweatsuit is staring at them, lips pursed and judgy.  Jess raises her eyebrow at her and purses her lips straight back.    
  
"I mean, I am from Chicago.  Delays in O'Hare, hell, I embrace 'em.  It’s part of my cultural heritage, like deep-dish pizza and supporting the Cubbies.  We're proud of it.  But Phila _del_ phia--"  
  
"It's the City of Brotherly Love," Jess offers, and whatever, who cares, this city at least has the Liberty Bell and Ben Franklin.  She's a teacher; both are dear to her heart.  "Come on, Nick, where's your revolutionary spirit?"  
  
"In _Chicago_ ," Nick glares, and Jess signs, decides not to remind him that Illinois was in no way an original colony, and picks up her carryon.  
  
\--  
  
They have dinner at an Au Bon Pain in the terminal.  Nick is eating his pan au chocolat  like it's offended him somehow.  
  
"I'm going to try Winston or Schmidt again," Jess says.  Her salad is limp and vinegary, and she pushes it away.  "Maybe Schmidt can like, use his frequent flyer miles to get us on a different flight.  There’s got to be a direct flight on a less… sketchy airline.  Because we're delayed indefinitely.  Did I tell you that?  I don’t know if I told you that."  
  
Nick sends injured looks at his ice tea.  
  
"Right," Jess says, and goes to see if she can get help.  
  
-  
  
Nick is halfway through Us Magazine by the time she gets back.  He looks up at her, eyes way too interested.  "Jess, LeAnn Rimes is a _terrible_ person.  Passing judgment on celebrities is such a good way to pass the time, it's gotta have been what, like, an hour?  Two?  I'm a slow reader, right, it could have been two hours."  
  
"Fifteen minutes," she informs him.  "You are worse than every child I have ever taught.  And I have taught some horrible children."

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Okay.”  She crosses her arms and gives him the look she gives recalcitrant eleven year olds.  “Nick.  The airline says they’ll put us up in a hotel.  They say don’t go too far from the airport—but we’re not going to, like, go and lick the Liberty Bell like they did in _How I Met Your Mother_ , I don’t care if you want to—and we can stay the night there.  No sleeping in airport chairs.”

 

“Hooray,” Nick says, raising a fist.  “Wait, I need to buy _Life & Style _first, they have more on the TomKat divorce and what’s happening with Tom and Suri.”

 

“I am telling Schmidt and Winston everything,” Jess grumbles, and follows him to the newsstand.

 

-

 

“I don’t want to see the Liberty Bell,” Nick says.  He’s carrying four magazines, all different, but all with the same celebrity on the cover.  Jess has his carryon bag.  She honestly isn’t sure why.

 

“We don’t have to see it, you are ridiculous, and you are a ridiculous person.”

 

“Your face is,” Nick mutters, and takes his bag back.  Jess heaves a sigh and shimmies her way into the car.  They’re at some massive chain hotel she can actually see in the distance, over the low Philadelphia skyline.  It’s supposed to be a nice room, that’s what the airline rep told her.

 

Though Nick will probably be up all night with _Us Weekly_. 

 

“We’ll just go out for dinner or something, would that be okay?  Just like, some nice Italian food?”

 

“Maybe,” Nick concedes.  “I got a lot of tips at work, I can split the bill this time.”

 

“You’re such a good friend,” Jess says, and tips the cabbie more than she should, because Nick is a bad omen for the service industry (even though he is technically a part of it).

 

-

 

“Holy _shit_ this hotel is nice,” Nick breathes out.  The magazines that he’s holding drop to the floor.  “Wow.  Props to you, sketchy airline.  Props to you.”

 

“That’s a king size bed,” Jess says, and flops onto it, spreading her arms wide.  “This is my dream.”

 

“No, Jess, you don’t understand, this is _my_ dream.”

 

“We can share this dream.”  She rolls to her left and sighs.  “Together.  As friends.”

 

“Okay, yeah, but stop hogging the whole bed.”  Nick dives onto the mattress face-first and sighs.  “Ohhh yes.”

 

“We need this in the loft.  Like, instead of a living room.”

 

“Schmidt would go for it.”

 

Jess giggles.

 

-

 

Sharing the bed?  It is totally fine.  It is totally platonic in every way.

 

(Except for how they end up spooning.)

 

(Nick is the big spoon and when the sunlight spills in bright through the window and wakes her up—well, um.  Hello, sailor, that is all Jess is going to say.)

 

“Ohhhhhhmygod,” she says, and rolls over, and falls straight out of the bed.  The carpet is super plush, but.  But.  “ _Nick_.”

 

“What?”  He cracks an eye open and glares at her.  “What is it?”

 

“Stop being so aggressive.  With your _penis_.”

 

Nick hurriedly bunches the sheets over his crotch and remains silent for a very long while and Jess grabs the robe off the chair, wrapping it tightly around herself.  She’s beginning to crawl over to the bathroom when he speaks.

 

“We have to be at the airport in four hours.”  His voice is rough from sleeping, a little confused.  She’s heard it before, she’s heard it lots of time ( _“Jess_ , jesus christ, the smell of frying eggs is going to kill me this morning, it really is—“ “—like you won’t eat them anyways, don’t lie to yourself and your hangover—“) but right now it’s doing butterfly-like things to her insides.

 

_What_.

 

“We can go get breakfast.”  She lifts her head off of her knees.  “Right?”

 

“Yeah,” Nick says.  “Yeah, we can do that.”  He pauses.  “Sorry.”

 

“Um,” Jess says.  “Yes.”

 

He sits up.  “Want a hand?”

 

-

 

Her head stays on his shoulder the whole plane ride.  Somewhere over Nevada, his hand slips into hers.

 

It’s not weird.

 

It’s really nice.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
